


The Date (reprise)

by distantstarlight



Series: 12 Lays of Christmas [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, the actual fic not that other one I posted incorrectly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantstarlight/pseuds/distantstarlight
Summary: the author is ill and posted half a page of the wrong fic instead of what you will find below.Sherlock Holmes is feeling low and blue but John is having none of it. It's Christmas Eve, and things to do.





	The Date (reprise)

**Author's Note:**

> I am seriously under the weather. I've botched everything I can possibly botch for one person in a single day and it's not even half over. Accept my apologies and this entire fic. Will be back soonish with the rest of the series.

Sherlock sat in his chair and sighed. It was Christmas Eve and his least favourite time of the year. Sherlock disliked the commercialism of the season, the falseness of the marketing, the endless repetition of the music, and the colour scheme. It was just another date on the calendar to him, he wasn’t into the rest of it. He didn’t exactly hate the holidays, but he really did loathe the one part of the season that he was compelled to experience far too many times, and he didn’t like it.

Sherlock was lonely. Christmas was a time for family and friends except that Sherlock’s relationship with his family was at best, _extremely_ strained, and they all avoided one another as much as possible. John was his only friend and _he_ had an abundance of family as well as other friends to celebrate with during the holidays. They hadn’t discussed it. There was no point in discussion when it was so obvious. Sherlock knew that John would be leaving, probably until the New Year had arrived, off to somewhere quaint and homey, and surrounded by kith and kin.

Sherlock was going to be entirely by himself. Mummy and Papa had asked him to come to Christmas at theirs again but after all the upheaval of last year, Sherlock was uncomfortable with the idea of having to go wallow in the memories of _John choosing Mary_ once more. Mycroft had offered to let their parents stay at his townhouse for the season and Sherlock had already had dinner with them once this week, and that’s all of his time that he was willing to give up at the moment. There was only so much of Mycroft’s chewing that he could endure before attempted fratricide occurred. Staying at his flat alone was the best gift Sherlock could give those closest to him.

Morose, Sherlock went to the sofa and curled up into a ball of misery. Mary was gone and he wasn’t sorry, but that lack made him feel guilty. His best friend had lost the love of his life, Sherlock should feel some kind of supportive something about that but he wasn’t able to. He knew that his pointless pining would never be resolved and it was infuriating to be the pitiful half of an unrequited love affair. There was no point in trying anything anymore. Sherlock planned to spend the next few days right there on the sofa, only leaving it’s embrace when he absolutely had to. “You look like one of those swooning princesses in a fairy tale.”

Sherlock curled up tighter as John’s teasing voice interrupted his internal misery. “What do you want, John?” Sherlock knew he sounded tired and sad but it was too true for him to hide, and why bother anyway? _John would never love him the way he had loved Mary and that’s all there was to it. Why was he here, anyway? Shouldn’t John have already packed up to go wherever it was he was going?_

“To serve and protect your majesty, to defend your maidenly honour, but also, to offer you this tea which I have carefully made by mine own hand.” John sounded dramatically courtly and against his will, Sherlock laughed. “Come on, get up, Princess Sulky, drink your tea. I brought biscuits, too.”

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John. He was holding out steaming hot cup of tea. On the coffee table was a platter of brightly decorated biscuits. “I thought you were leaving for the holidays.”

“Yes, I know what you thought.” John eyed the tea meaningfully and Sherlock huffed a sigh before sitting up and taking the mug from him. “I’m not going anywhere this time, neither are you, so I’ve got everything all planned out.”

“What do you mean? I’m staying right here.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I really think that you aren’t, not after you hear my plans.”

“I’m not dressed to go out.”

“I don’t care, wear your ratty pyjamas if you want. We’re going out today and we’re doing things. Up. Come on. Up up up.” John managed to get Sherlock moving against his will and despite his insistence that he wasn’t going to, Sherlock got properly dressed. After drinking their tea and having two biscuits each, John rushed Sherlock out of the flat. “You’re going to love this.”

Sherlock had his doubts. John ignored his pouting silence and enjoyed the cab ride to their destination, “The Museum of London, seriously John?”

“Shut it. I love the Museum and we never go except on cases. I want to go have a bit of a stroll and take in some history.” They went in and did exactly what he said he was going to do. They wandered around, aimlessly examining artefacts displayed in the galleries. John went up to a man in sober clothing, and after a brief word, tugged at Sherlock’s sleeve to get him to follow along. Eventually, Sherlock and John were standing in front of a case display of what could only be described as well-filled. Shelves seemed to be carelessly filled with jewellery of all sorts; necklaces, pins, earrings, bracelets, even jewelled bowls and all manner of riches, all were tumbled together in a chaotic mess that glinted and glimmered.

Sherlock gasped. He knew what he was looking at! Sherlock turned and looked at John who was standing next to him, grinning up proudly, “How did you know?”

“How could I not? You grew up searching for lost treasure, of course, you’d know about this trove but I doubted that you’d ever taken the time to actually come see it.”

John was right. Sherlock looked over all the objects with near reverence, “ _The Cheapside Hoard_. No one knows exactly how it got there, there is speculation but no actual proof. It could have happened any number of ways, we’ll never know for certain. Imagine, John, all this just sitting in what amounted to a hole in the ground, and who knows for how long? I mean yes, you can date the objects by their material and form but that’s not what I mean. How did it all come to be together? There are so many places these things came from and yet here they are, siblings from the same nest of mystery. It’s marvellous.”

John looked extremely pleased with himself and made no effort to lead Sherlock to view other displays, content to allow the rapturous consulting detective to pore over this one, taking in every detail meticulously. After a good long while though, John’s tummy grumbled. Sherlock stood, knowing his friend would require some kind of sustenance, “Shall we?”

“We’ll just be on time for our reservation if we leave now.” _Reservations? Had John made reservations for Christmas Day? With him?_ “I know you don’t care much for turkey.”

Sherlock didn’t care for it at all, considering it dry, too flavourless, and too desperate and required the accompaniment of far too many side-dishes to be worthy of any respect. He knew he was irrational about it but there it was. Sherlock wondered at John’s plans, especially when their cab brought them to the front of a high-end Asian restaurant, “They have a Christmas special, just for today, made for people like you.”

“John, what is this all about? First the Museum, now dinner? How long have you had these plans in place?”

John just smiled and gave his name to the _maitre d’_.  They were ushered to a small private table where their seasonal drinks were waiting for them, and their server assigned. Sherlock looked around at the understated room, and then over to John, “So?”

“I’ve been planning this for weeks, Sherlock. You and I never get out just to have a good time and we deserve it. I want to be here with you, my very best friend, to celebrate the holiday, any holiday.” John’s eyes were bright and happy, “This is where I’ll always choose to be, Sherlock, right here with you, for everything.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know, Sherlock, and that’s okay. Eat your appetiser.” Food was magically arriving, and Sherlock realised that John must have pre-chosen their dinner options if all of it was ready so soon. How much planning had gone into this? “I love crab soup!”

“I know, and paneer, that’s coming next. Eat up, Sherlock.” Sherlock did as he was bid, happily. He hadn’t had crab soup in years, how had John known that he had a preference for it? Every plate that arrived after that was tasted and consumed with eagerness, all of it savoury and delicious. Sherlock hadn’t eaten this much food in one sitting in his entire life. Even John was having difficulties tucking into their pudding at the end. Both men had round bellies but huge smiles, “That was amazing.”

“It really was.” Sherlock felt content and happy. John had gone through a lot of effort to make today pleasant and he was grateful, “What now?”

John took Sherlock to Hyde Park to enjoy the Winter Wonderland. They ambled through, not really doing anything, but just enjoying knocking elbows with one another as they made their way through the crowds. Sherlock couldn’t recall being happier on Christmas. John had made his entire day fantastic. Without thinking, Sherlock put his arm around John’s shoulder, pulling him close as the walked. John didn’t protest. In fact, the doctor immediately put his hand around Sherlock’s waist, gripping his hip firmly as they continued to stroll. When they stopped to admire a display or ornaments, Sherlock allowed his arm to fall away but John caught him by the hand and held tight to it. Sherlock smiled and let him.

They continued to stroll hand in hand until John found a kiosk selling steaming cups of hot chocolate. They let each other go for a moment but then, Sherlock put his arm around John’s shoulder and John put his back around Sherlock’s waist, and they continued their slow amble. There were carollers to listen to so they did, sipping their chocolate and holding one another. Sherlock felt happier than ever and wondered how much happiness he could bear. It was almost overwhelming. When their cups were done and properly disposed of, John took Sherlock’s hand once more and led him away.

This time their cab had no other destination but home, but Sherlock wasn’t disappointed. The garlands and ornaments were welcoming instead of garish and off-putting, and their flat smelled like vanilla cookies and joyfulness. When they entered their flat, John laughed and pointed to their entryway. Mrs Hudson had strung up a large mistletoe on a bright red ribbon and they were both standing beneath it, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” There was no awkwardness or hesitation. Both men shifted and moved until their lips met, and then their arms were holding the other tight once more until they were cupping the backs of each other’s head and deepening their first kiss as much as they could. Sherlock knew that this was the true gift, fancy dinners and lovely unexpected dates aside. He was here with John Hamish Watson and they were together. Nothing more needed to be said, not tonight, but perhaps later. Right now was a new beginning, a road away from the painful loneliness he’d been planning for earlier this same day. “You know I love you, John.”

“I know it. I just needed to show you that I love you just as much.”  They stood and kissed and Sherlock stopped worrying about being alone, or what came next, or how their lives would change. All those answers would come. Right now there was this moment to enjoy, and the next moment to look forward to, and an entire lifetime of moments to be experienced. This, this was the very best gift of all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ...again, sorry for the egregious miss-post earlier.


End file.
